It's midnight and I'm writing this on my phone. I just loved Deathly Hallows so much I've decided to write up a little jealousy-Ron oneshot, because Ron is gorgeous and I love him to bits and pieces.
. . .
So what? I saw them kissing. Maybe fucking, for all I care. Well, I didn't quite see them, more like them walking close to each other, back to the tent.. Maybe too close. My little radio couldn't quite muffle those imaginary moans my mind seems to think came from Hermoine. There's not another reason to love her anymore. Even if she's the love of my life. But she did it with my best friend.
It figures, I guess. He's practically Jesus. He's gorgeous, too, I suppose. It's why I'm moody. Because I'm immature, according to Hermoine, anyways. And in my head Hermoine could be pregnant. But why should I care?
It's just my imagination going wild, because I know my two best friends wouldn't go off and fuck behind my back - especially since Harry knows for a fact that I kind of fancy Hermoine. But there's that small yet oh-so important part in my brain that doubts it. I don't even bother to ask. What do I say, even if I decide to? "Hey, Harry, did you have sex with Hermoine?" He'll say no, even if he did. I'll just tell him I like them pure.
I usually don't make mistakes when I have crushes. Girls like me. A few, actually. They're all adorable girls who are so stupid they'll fall for anyone with a charming smile. Or anyone who looks like they like boobs. I have no idea why they like me.
Hermoine's a mistake. She's so clean it's insane. She doesn't have a gorgeous body either. No curves, but she's still beautiful. And Harry's a heart throb. When someone mentions "Harry" the others automatically say, "Harry Potter? He's so gorg." like they mean it. When someone mentions "Ronald" it's always, "Ronald..McDonald?"
Hermoine? Damn it, I love her. But she and Harry should get a room. They're both so damn wonderful. What the hell don't they just hook up in real life.
When I heard Hermoine's voice at the pub, I looked around, wondering if she finally wanted me. It was sort of seductive, but not lustful. Just a whispery, lurring, "Ron..Ron..Ron.." was sort of a sign to me. After a while it sounded like she was dozing, saying my name in her sleep. I'm blushing. I whispered her name in my sleep too. Not intentionally, really. I meant to call out my girlfriend's name at the time.
My imagination is so wild now. I'm turning the radio up to get rid of the soft moans in my brain. I turn on a light to see Harry on the top bunk and Hermoine on her single bed, so close that I could just..hold..her..hand..
I reach over to get a small touch or her soft skin, and she blinks her eyes open.
"Ron? What the hell are you doing up at this," she yawned, "hour?"
"I, uh, never mind that. Night terrors, I suppose." I chuckled. "Night, then." I whispered a soft, soft, "I love you." as I rolled over in bed.
She rolled her eyes. "Goodnight, Ron. I love you, too." She sort of blushed.
My imagination has those little doubts every so often, even now, but for the rest of the night I slept well.
. . .
Yes, I yelled "Yeah, go Ron!" when he returned to Harry and Hermoine :D
Spoiler Alert! :D I decided to write this because I felt inspired at the parts when Ron was sick and saw Hermoine and Harry coming back from the outside of the tent and when he was being convinced that Hermoine said that Ron is nothing to her and that Harry is better, but obviously she didn't really think that, it was more like a hallucination.
Anyways, excuse the thin lines and the lack of explanation. Like I said, it is midnight and I'm a little brain-dead. And I've been practicing a British accent because they're a slight possibility that my mum and I will move to London. Hell yes. Other than that, I'd like to wish you guys a good night, or morning, or afternoon. 3
R&R? Please? :D